


something in the air

by shier



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:04:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shier/pseuds/shier
Summary: seven times donghwan almost kiss and one time they kinda do. not in chronological order.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i blame this [kissing meme](http://i.imgur.com/4ER9l8C.png).

 

 

 ** _right before_ ** **_  
_ ** “Hyung,” Donghyuk calls, and Jinhwan forces his eyes open, drawn in by the spot of warmth on his arm. He blinks and Donghyuk’s face swims into view, his face already devoid of makeup, but his hair still swooped and gelled firmly in place. Jinhwan’s smile is automatic, even as he reaches up to rub an eye. “We can go.”

Something swells and crescendos in Jinhwan’s chest; it’s been like that these days, when they’ve been stealing kisses around corners and behind closed doors. Last week, they’d gotten up two hours earlier than their scheduled time ( _eight_ in the morning) and they’d taken a walk, all bundled up in hoodies, and Donghyuk had relaxed enough to let Jinhwan hold his hand. They’d gotten hot soup for breakfast—Jinhwan had ordered their food in a lower baritone, and Donghyuk had spent the whole ordeal snickering behind his mask.

“What time is it?” Jinhwan asks, but Donghyuk doesn’t reply. Instead, he glances back quickly, towards the quiet thrumming sound of the other boys and the staff, and then tips forward like he wants to kiss Jinhwan, but stops short before his lips.

“Time to go,” Donghyuk adds, a little too close for comfort. There’s a glimmer in his eye and all Jinhwan can think about is how doomed he is. How so very _fucking doomed_. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Jinhwan says, voice watery. He takes the hand Donghyuk offers and hoists himself up. “Junhoe finally done getting the glitter off his face?”

“He stopped complaining, at least,” Donghyuk says. He doesn’t let go of Jinhwan’s hand, even when they leave.

 

/

 

 **_not on the lips_ ** **_  
_ ** “It’s Valentine’s Day!” Jiwon hollers into his microphone, as if his microphone wasn’t invented to amplify sound. “Shouldn’t we _kiss_ someone?”

“Oh,” Hanbin choruses, managing to sound patronising even with his eyes rounded in excitement. “ _Ohhhh_ , does Bobby-hyung want to kiss Junhoe? Where’s Junhoe?”

“No!” Jiwon immediately cuts in, and Jinhwan has to laugh at the immediate regret that descends onto Jiwon’s face. “ _No_. Why don’t we _jankenpon_ for it? Huh? Fairness.”

“I wanna kiss Donghyuk,” Yunhyeong chimes in. “Because he’s _cute_.”

“No, _I_ want to kiss Donghyuk,” Hanbin interrupts with gusto, making a face.

“No,” Junhoe chimes in loudly. He shoots Jinhwan a look, and something in Jinhwan’s gut tells him that he should run right now, if he could. “I wanna see Jinhwan-hyung kiss Donghyuk.”

“Ah, _why_?” Donghyuk whines. In his mind, Jinhwan can imagine the way Donghyuk would look if they were somewhere else more private: that tinge of shyness, and then the decisive swoop forward to tug Jinhwan flush against his chest. The flash of his teeth, his dimples, and then—

“Why don’t you want me to kiss you?” Jinhwan questions. He pouts, looking even more ridiculous when his face flashes on the big screen, and the fans cheer loudly. He wants it, suddenly, wants his lips on Donghyuk to be immortalised in some way or form, so that whatever this fleeting thing that they’re starting to flirt with is concrete, _real_.

“Yeah, _why_?” Junhoe asks, already stalking over to drag Jinhwan by the shoulder towards Donghyuk. “Don’t you guys want to see Jinhwan-hyung kiss Donghyuk?”

The crowd cheers, but everything’s flatlined out, and all Jinhwan can focus on is Donghyuk in his oversized iKON shirt plastered to his back with sweat.

“You’re all just teasing me,” Donghyuk insists, but then Hanbin’s holding onto him and Junhoe’s shoving Jinhwan close enough that he and Donghyuk can share a microphone, so Jinhwan sucks in a deep breath and grins.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!” he chimes into Donghyuk’s microphone, schooling his expression into something serious even as he puckers his lips. And then he leans in and the crowd goes _wild_ —

 

/

 

 **_interrupted_ ** **_  
_ ** Soon after Hanbin leaves, the clock ticks _3am_ and Jinhwan stops, sliding down onto the floor to catch a break, sucking in lungfuls of air like a fish out of water. The practice room is strangely silent when there are only the two of them left; there’s something strangely unnerving about the sound of Donghyuk’s sneakers squeaking against the floor as he moves through the two-step sequence that Hanbin had _insisted_ was going to be good for their performance. He never mentioned how shit it was going to be for the front-liners like Donghyuk.

And he’s doing it wrong.

Jinhwan should really muster the energy to get up and correct him. They’ve been going at it for _hours_ , the rest of them dropping away like flies when Hanbin had been satisfied, and now they’ve plateaued in a way that can only be solved by sleep and a good, long break, both of which were luxuries of time that they couldn’t afford.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Jinhwan says, exhaling to blow his bangs out of his face. He forces himself up and takes his place to Donghyuk’s right, getting into position. “It’s hand, hand, thigh, _twist_ , and then squat.” Donghyuk doesn’t say anything, but his fevered eyes fix on Jinhwan’s figure in the mirror and Jinhwan wonders with a sudden fierceness, what he’s thinking. When Jinhwan dances, he doesn’t think, but there’s always a certain sharpness to Donghyuk that suggests there’s something constantly brewing in his head.

In unison, they move through the sequences of the dance, even though Jinhwan’s limbs feel like they’re moving through water. But the bone-deep weariness that permeates him these days, when everything is a breath away from falling apart like a house of cards, seems to evaporate, temporarily, when Donghyuk mirrors him move for move.

Afterwards, they both collapse into a heap by the benches, sweat cooling lightly on their skin.

“We won’t get any sleep,” Donghyuk says. He sounds apologetic and Jinhwan wants to tell him _it’s okay_. These days, nothing is protocol and he’d do anything to help Donghyuk win the game. But his words seem to have left him, so he shifts to slide an arm around Donghyuk’s shoulders instead. The mirror image shifts along with him, and he catches Donghyuk staring at him with eyes at half-mast and face flushed with red. “Hyung.”

Jinhwan turns to face him and it’s a big mistake—his heart’s pounding in his throat and he finds himself thinking, offhandedly, _no one would know_. It’s Donghyuk who moves first, but it’s Hanbin who breaks the moment when he busts in through the door, dragging his feet like he had weights bound to them.

 

/

 

 **_refused_ ** **_  
_ ** “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Donghyuk calls out, chasing after him. Jinhwan doesn’t manage to slam the door quite hard enough and Donghyuk catches it before it fully closes, so Jinhwan gets a faceful of Donghyuk’s puppy dog eyes. “You know it’s just a _joke_.”

“Is it?” he demands, and his voice sounds icy and barbed even to his own ears. _Good._ “Which part of it was a joke to you? The part where you said I looked good with Junhoe—“

“—everyone says that—“

“—or the part where you said you think we should go on a _date_ when we get to _Paris_ because it’s the—“ Jinhwan holds up air quotes, his face twisted with anger “—the city of _love_?”

Donghyuk looks like he wants to laugh, his lips pressed thin and his cheeks already pushing upwards. He’s bad at this—and maybe that’s one of the things Jinhwan likes about him—but Jinhwan’s _angry_ , the heat of it burning in his stomach.

“It’s not funny,” Jinhwan says, folding his arms. He wants this to be serious. And Donghyuk’s serious. So serious, sometimes, that he’s too scared to let it _be_ serious.

“It’s _not_ funny,” Donghyuk echoes. Something in his face shutters the way Jinhwan’s seen a million times before, at photoshoots, when the photographer says _can you be_ more _serious?_ and the anger gives way to guilt. “I’m sorry, okay? The interviewer just seemed interested in—you know. You. Junhoe.”

“So?” Jinhwan says. What he wants to say is _tell them about us, tell them something real instead_ , but he knows where that will lead so he doesn’t, and just stands stock still, kneading the material of his jacket under his fingers. He knows he’s fighting a losing battle: Donghyuk’s right. Whatever tenuous thing that held them together was never meant for public eyes, and especially not jokingly. But he still felt stupidly disowned anyway, unwanted.

“Alright,” Donghyuk says placatingly. It’s his _this is fine just let it blow over_ voice and Jinhwan folds into himself even more. He’s not even sure if he’s angry now, or disappointed, or regretful. There’s a melee of feelings brewing in his chest and he knows that if he keeps holding onto it, it’s going to overspill and he’s going to _cry_. “Okay, I won’t do it again, hyung. Please don’t be mad?”

 _This isn’t a mistake during practice_ , Jinhwan wants to yell, but he can already hear the muffled sounds of Junhoe and Yunhyeong debating whether or not they should come in and help. So he swallows and says, “I overreacted too, sorry.” It’s curt, and it’s never curt between them, so it stings. He should let things fall back to normal, stop trying to fix something that isn’t broken. But when Donghyuk ducks his head for a kiss, Jinhwan turns and reaches for the door.

 

/

 

 **_false alarm_ ** **_  
_ ** They’re the last ones to file out of the car, having volunteered to squeeze up in the back with the luggage, after the managers sent the wrong van to pick them up from the airport. By the time they pull up in front of the hotel, Jinhwan’s legs are so numb that he can barely feel them, and he stumbles out of the car right into Donghyuk’s arms.

“Be careful,” Donghyuk says, and even when he’s nagging his voice is warm in Jinhwan’s ear. In his sleep-addled stage, Jinhwan holds on tighter, smirking up at him. Who cares if someone’s watching them right this instance? Who cares if there’s a fan hiding by the bush with a camera at the ready (it’s 4am, though, and Jinhwan _sincerely hopes_ they’re not there) to catch them?

“Are you gonna carry me back to my room?” Jinhwan questions softly, teasingly. Donghyuk’s face is half-illuminated by the warm light of the lobby and Jinhwan has never wanted anything more.

“Who’s the hyung, I wonder…?” Donghyuk teases back, acting like he doesn’t care either. It’s easy to pretend that they’re wrapped up in soft gauze, encapsulated from the rest of the world. For a moment, Jinhwan thinks he’s really going to do this. He’s going to kiss Donghyuk right here and right now, shrouded in the cold Parisian air, and Donghyuk’s going to let him. But then Donghyuk smiles in that little way of his that tells Jinhwan they’re going a step too far, and Jinhwan disengages: never mind.

 

/

 

 **_wrong atmosphere_ ** **_  
_ ** “Hanbin doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Jinhwan insists angrily. Donghyuk glances up at him, arms already coming around to cross over his chest in embarrassment, as if they hadn’t all lived in close quarters for several years already.

“About what?” Donghyuk asks, relaxing when he sees that it’s only Jinhwan. Under the harsh light of the bathroom, his cheeks look even more gaunt and his skin seems taut across his ribcage. Jinhwan knows he’s overthinking this—Donghyuk’s been losing and gaining weight since the moment Jinhwan’s known him. But it _doesn’t matter_ —

“About your binge eating,” Jinhwan clarifies. He’d glared at Hanbin after Donghyuk had left the room, wearing a smile that was too watery to bode well, but Chanwoo had reduced the tension with a well-timed joke, and Jinhwan couldn’t find it in him to argue. What was the point? “It’s not a problem.”

“… but it is,” Donghyuk says. He’s putting his clothes on too hastily for Jinhwan’s liking, almost tripping over himself to pull up a leg of his sweatpants. _It’s just me_ , Jinhwan wants to say, _what’s wrong?_ “Hanbin-hyung’s right. It’s not good.”

“We all deal with our stress differently, right? Jiwon locks himself in the toilet. Junhoe does jiujitsu. Yunhyeong organises the kitchen five hundred different times,” Jinhwan lists off, taking small steps in Donghyuk’s direction. The bathroom seems bigger than it usually does, when Hanbin and Jiwon are trying to crowd in with him, and the distance between him and Donghyuk stretches farther than ever. What good is he if he can’t even convince Kim Donghyuk that there’s nothing wrong with him? “You eat. So what? It’s not like you’re about to gain 10 pounds.”

“Hyung,” Donghyuk says, his voice small, gaze averted towards his feet.

“So don’t listen to Hanbin, okay?” Jinhwan says, bordering on childish as he grabs Donghyuk’s towel and hooks it around Donghyuk’s neck, tugging him closer. “Please?”

“You know I can’t,” Donghyuk says, _still_ looking down. “I’ve gained since Japan and it’s not a good thing and Yunhyeong-hyung keeps making supper and I—“

“You’re perfect the way you are,” Jinhwan says, firmly, cupping Donghyuk’s face to stroke his cheek. His skin’s still warm from the shower and he looks so immeasurably young that Jinhwan’s breath catches. And though Donghyuk looks up, startled at the sudden fierceness or sudden cheesiness of the statement, he doesn’t look convinced.

“It’ll be fine,” he says instead, “I know what I’m doing.”

 

/

 

 **_losing courage_ ** **_  
_ ** “Aren’t you gonna visit him?” Jiwon questions sleepily, dragging a hand over his face. Jinhwan can tell he’s crashing from his Red Bull induced high, now that the V Live has been turned off and he’s just seconds from falling asleep on the closest horizontal surface. It’s a good thing they’re already in the backseat of their van.

“I figured he wouldn’t want to see me,” Jinhwan says. He’d fought with Donghyuk a few days earlier, over the phone, although it’s difficult to maintain anything resembling anger with someone who has a blocked nose and sounds miserable even when he says _let’s drop this, hyung, I’m tired_.

“Trust me, after what you said about him just now?” Jiwon says, smacking his face in the curve of Jinhwan’s neck and shoulder. His voice is muffled when he speaks again. “He does.” Two seconds later, he’s asleep, and Jinhwan can only hope today isn’t the day he’s drooled on.

Jinhwan’s thought about dropping it entirely—it’s kind of hard to be a hyung to someone when he has feelings for them, when those feelings cloud his judgment. If it were anyone else, Jinhwan would approach it with tact and relatively useful advice, but because it’s Donghyuk, all Jinhwan can do is alternate between sad tears and angry tears. It’s ridiculous, and Jinhwan hates that he isn’t a better confidante (a better _boyfriend_ ).

Later in his room, he thinks he should call Donghyuk anyway, to tell him that Jinhwan’s not mad, and that he hopes Donghyuk can get better so they can usher in the new year together. Jinhwan wants to do something cliched, like sit on the top of their apartment building and kiss Donghyuk with the fireworks dancing above their heads. Barring that, he’d settle for a handjob under the covers in Jinhwan’s room. But he takes one look at his inbox ( _message read: Thursday, 6pm_ ) and he dumps his phone on the floor and presses his face into the pillow, trying not to think about anything.

 

/

 

 **_this is good enough  
_ ** It’s Hanbin’s idea to go see Donghyuk, so it must also be Hanbin’s idea to ditch Jinhwan on Donghyuk’s doorstep all by his lonesome self. Donghyuk’s younger sister opens the door for him with a chirpy smile and tells him that Donghyuk’s upstairs feeling miserable about himself.

“I’ll see what I can do about him,” Jinhwan says seriously. She throws her head back and laughs, and suddenly Jinhwan wonders how it’d taken him so long to come visit. And he hadn’t brought anything, not even a bowl of microwaved soup. Feeling stupidly empty-handed, he winds down the L-shaped corridor and knocks on the door, not quite expecting the phlegmy _come in_ from the other side of it.

“It’s me,” Jinhwan says, pushing his way in. The room’s warm and muggy but Donghyuk’s bundled under two layers of duvet, looking uncharacteristically small. _No_ , Jinhwan thinks to himself, biting back from making the automatic remark that Donghyuk looks terrible. He’s glad that he’s the only one who’d come, for reasons aside from the fact that he enjoyed monopolising Donghyuk’s attention. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Donghyuk says, immediately shedding the layers of duvet to sit up. Underneath, he has a soft hoodie on from the Mix & Match days and Jinhwan has a brief flash of the bowl-haired kid who used to focus only on his dancing. “I mean, I’m not coughing up phlegm anymore, so—“

“Please,” Jinhwan says, making a face. They’re following a script, he knows, but Donghyuk’s face had lit up when he’d seen Jinhwan come in. Surely that counted for something? “Are you forcing me to leave?”

“No,” Donghyuk says quickly, fingers twisted together in his lap. “I didn’t… expect you to come.” He looks so uncharacteristically uncomfortable that Jinhwan takes the last few steps forward to sit on the edge of his bed. “But I’m glad you did. I mean. I really missed you, hyung.”

Jinhwan can’t stand it—can’t stand the uncertainty between them both, as if they were strangers who didn’t know how to do anything but dance unsurely around each other—so he tugs one of Donghyuk’s hands out of his lap and holds it in his own. “I missed you too,” he says, slowly, letting his sincerity weigh down on every word. “It’s not the same, without you.”

“You said that already,” Donghyuk points out with a small smile, staring down at their joint hands like he can’t quite believe his own eyes, “during the Live.”

“You were watching?”

“You looked really good in that sweater,” Donghyuk adds. “And Hanbin-hyung was all over you.”

“Were you _jealous_?” Jinhwan teases. He’d gravitated closer without quite realising it, though perhaps that sort of subconscious magnetism was always going to happen with Donghyuk. He certainly hadn’t planned on this.

“A little,” Donghyuk says, and then his arms are around Jinhwan’s waist. “A lot. Being sick sucks. Being without you _sucks_.”

There’s a sharp quip sitting right at the tip of Jinhwan’s tongue but he loses it in favour of darting forward to kiss Donghyuk on the temple, and then on the lips. His skin is sweaty and clammy and he’s still burning up and he feels more fragile than ever.

“Then promise me you won’t fall sick again,” Jinhwan says softly. Donghyuk looks at him for a moment, eyes wide like he can’t quite grasp what Jinhwan’s saying. But they’ve had this argument so many times, in different forms, sometimes even non-verbally, when Jinhwan had shoved the food that Donghyuk had set aside back onto his plate, that Donghyuk should _know_ , by now, exactly what Jinhwan’s pleading of him.

But there must be something in Jinhwan’s expression that hadn’t been there all those other times—the next second, Donghyuk says, “I know,” voice a little muffled because he’d gone and pressed his face into Jinhwan’s sweater. He’s trembling lightly, the skin on his neck hot against Jinhwan’s lips when he turns his face towards him, trying to convince himself that this moment will be the moment everything changes for the better. “I won’t.”

 

 

 


End file.
